


music to my ears | osasuna

by sleepykagz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Guitars, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu Needs a Hug, Self-Worth Issues, Singing, onigiri, osamu loves food, suna smokes a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepykagz/pseuds/sleepykagz
Summary: suna rintaro is a guitar player, nothing more than a guy who smokes in an alleyway in between shows. osamu miya owns an onagri shop across the street from the bar, noticing when suna trudges across the street with his guitar across his back and cigarettes in hand. he hates seeing such a beautiful person sad, so he does the only thing he can think of. he makes him onigiri.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh god here we go-

suna pov

-

"god, my head is pounding," suna complained as he walked out of the bar. it was the end of the night, about 2am and suna was over the loud drums and flashing neon lights. his guitar was swung around him, strap digging into the grey checkered flannel he wore over his black hoodie. he watched the door of the bar slam behind him, breathing in the cool air against his mask. often he wondered why he played at this gig. it wasn't like he enjoyed it, he really wasn't even that good.

_tap, tap, tap_

his black high-tops padded across the pavement of the road as the walked to the alleyway near the bar, dark jeans swishing against each other. the alleyway was in between a clothing store and an onigiri shop. it was named "onigiri miya" and was small, but it looked nice inside.

suna snorted at the name. 

_miya_

the name sounded familiar. he was a famous volleyball player right? atsumu miya, the disgustingly smug blonde setter for the msyb black jackals. he glanced up to the bright window of the store. god, that man better not speak a word to him. all he wanted was a place to smoke. he fiddled with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, watching the window curiously, expecting to see a mess of blonde hair flash across the window. 

instead what he saw made him stop in his tracks, shoes scuffing the curb as he watched someone with grey hair work in the back kitchen. after a moment he walked over to the back door where suna usually went to blow off steam. the door creaked open, and out popped a man, cool grey hair, styled loosely across his forehead. his eyes were dark, mysterious, but somewhat warm and welcoming. suna watched as he placed a plate of onigiri down gently on the doorstep, glancing up to lock eyes with suna. the man smiled after a second, raising his hand to wave awkwardly, a dust of pink across his cheeks as he quickly retreated inside. 

suna huffed a laugh, eyes never leaving the other males as he went inside. suna watched through the window as he cursed at him self, kicking a chair and covering his face with his hands in frustration. he was pink up to his ears, hair now rumpled. suna giggled softly. he had to admit, this man was objectively attractive. he assumed from the surname he was related to atsumu, and while atsumu had fangirls swooning over him and his dashing looks, suna never found anything extraordinary about him. obviously, miya atsumu had a pretty face, there was no point in denying it. but the grey haired man who he assumed was his twin seemed utterly perfect, suna was starstruck. there was something different about the way he held himself, a genuine half smile in place of a smug grin. 

it was funny that such an attractive man was flustered by suna. red as a cherry and and practically pulling his hair out because he couldn't even get up the courage to ask his name. suna wasn't too fond of his own looks, sharp yellow eyes and dark swooping hair that seemed to frame his face in the most unflattering way. not to mention he also always looked high, even when he wasn't. he really didn't smoke that much, only when the flashing lights were too much and needed an out, he wasn't like one of those addicts. it wasn't a surprise to suna that no one had ever liked him, he'd never even really had friends before.

sighing, he stepped towards the doorstep and leaned against the wall, taking his guitar and placing it in his lap as he slid down the wall. he sat cross legged, hooking a finger in his mask to pull it down. he lit the cigarette in his hand and leaned his head against the wall, glancing over to the plate of onigiri on the doorstep. they were absolutely prefect, the best looking onigiri suna had ever seen. crisp and white, shaped into symmetrical triangles. 

_guess one wouldn't hurt..._

he snuffed his cigarette and blew out one last puff of smoke, creating a long curl up into the air. reaching a hand out, he grabbed one of the onigiri and took a bite. it was the best damn thing suna had tasted in forever. living off of ramen noodles and bar food wasn't exactly the most satisfying diet. and on top of it all, it was umeboshi, suna's favorite. it was probably just a coincidence, but something inside of him told him osamu was someone he could learn to like. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

osamu pov

-

"god, why are you such an idiot?! you can't even tell him your name!" osamu yelled as soon as he was back inside his onigiri shop. he was so fucked. he'd watched him come and sit in the alleyway and smoke for weeks, noticing the yellow of his sharp eyes and the deep brown thick sweeps of hair against his pale moonlit skin. every outfit he wore was engrained in osamu's mind, how it showed off the slip of his hips when he wore a belt and his toned legs when he wore tight pants. he kicked a chair over and whined in pain as he stubbed his toe. the blush across his face made him feel hot and he threaded his hands through his hair. why couldn't he be more like atsumu? charming, confident, and yes they had the same face, but something about atsumu always made him better than osamu.

something out of the window caught his eye. a bright red guitar, sitting in the lap of the dark haired male. he peeked out the window and watched curiously as the man licked the last of the rice off of his long fingers. osamu blushed furiously at the next thing he did, strumming the strings of his guitar lightly. he heard the inhale of a breathe, and then a smooth, low voice.

_"my feet are aching  
and your back is pretty tired  
and we've drunk a couple bottles, babe  
and set our grief aside  
the Papers say it's doomsday  
the button has been pressed  
we're gonna nuke each other up boys  
'til old satan stands impressed"_

an inhale and another strum of his fingers,

_"and here it is, our final night alive  
and as the earth runs to the ground  
oh girl it's you that I lie with  
as the atom bomb locks in  
oh it's you I watch TV with  
as the world, as the world caves in"_

his voice was loud and full. he closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky, voice going quieter as he ended the chorus. 

_"you put your final suit on  
i paint my fingernails  
oh we're going out in style babe  
and everything's on sale  
we creep up on extinction  
i pull your arms right in  
i weep and say goodnight love  
while my organs pack it in"_

he reached the chorus again, singing just as passionately as the last verse. 

_"and here it is, our final night alive  
and as the earth runs to the ground  
oh girl it's you that I lie with  
as the atom bomb locks in  
oh it's you I watch TV with  
as the world, as the world caves  
oh it's you that I lie with  
as the atom bomb locks in  
yes it's you I welcome death with  
as the world, as the world caves in _

_as the world caves in"_

osamu saw tears rolling down his cheeks, blinking them away with long dark eyelashes as he opened his eyes again. it was one of the most beautiful things osamu had ever witnessed, standing in awe as the man stood up and swung the guitar back over his shoulder. his mask was hooked back around his ears, the stark black making his eyes shine brightly. he watched as he walked back across the street, shoes coming to a stop just before crossing the road. a cool breeze ruffled the man hair as he turned around, meeting his sharp eyes with osamu's. he raised a delicate hand, moving his long fingers in a way that indicted a wave, and osamu turned bright red. he did the same thing in return, waving through the window of his onigiri shop and smiling stupidly. 

the male smiled behind his mask and turned to walk away. osamu swore he saw a pink tint creep up above the line of his mask, but it was probably just the harsh street light making shadows, right?


	2. chapter 2 *:･ﾟ✧

suna pov

-

suna smiled. and although his mask hid it, the pink underneath wasn't just an illusion. he huffed as he pushed through the door of the bar, coming face to face with kita. 

"kita?"

the older male stood, arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face.

"i saw you,"

"saw what, me smoking? what about it sherlock," suna snarked, pulling down his mask to quirk an eyebrow at kita.

"i'm not stupid suna, i saw you with that miya kid over there. he's head over heels for you, i can tell," suna explained.

oh shit. he hadn't thought about kita when he went over there. and kita, being the intuitive senpai he was knew everything from one look. he KNEW kita would pester him about this for the rest of his waking days. 

"yea, so what? he's kinda cute but what do you want me to do about it," suna replied lazily, setting his guitar down to help clean up. he padded through the mess of tables, moving them each into a straight line and pushing the chairs in along the bar. the mess of glasses on the counter left circular wet rings, wiped away with a towel in kita's hand.

"suna," kita hummed as he cleaned, sweeping the littered crumbs from the floor into a dustpan.

"kita," suna grumbled, shuffling away to the middle of the room and hopping up onto the stage. he stood in the center, quietly, undisturbed by the sounds of kita closing up the bar. 

he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to sing up here, in front for everyone to see and not some back up vocalist. he wanted to feel the vibrations in his chest, his throat, his lungs and the sound slice through the quiet air. 

kita had told him he could easily be the lead singer. aran couldn't sing for shit but his drum skills were out of this world. kita himself was what suna thought was considered a very good singer, not anything major but someone who could spit out something decent. he was very different from suna, soft and clear, nothing extra in the way he sang. suna was loud and passionate. he used everything he had. 

often kita caught suna singing. in the bathroom, outside the bar, on the stage when he thought no on was watching. and every time he asked him why he didn't just take the mic and sing at their shows.

"who am i singing for? kita, tell me. then i'll sing."

kita gave him no answer.

so here was suna, standing on the stage with his eyes closed, imagining what it would be like to open his eyes and see someone standing there. right there, so close you could reach out and touch them. so close you could feel the roughness of calloused fingers, so close suna could card his finger through soft hair. so, close, that you could even hear their voice say, "good job suna,"

but when suna opened his eyes there's no one there. well, no one except kita, but he doesn't count.

"are you still searching suna?" kita asks, leaning against the broom handle. here comes the therapy again. 

suna frowns. isn't it obvious? there's never been anyone at the shows for him. suna has never asked for a free ticket or gone to hug someone after he plays. he's come to terms with the fact that it's just not in the cards for him. something kita says clicks in suna's brain.

"because he might be closer than you think," kita muses, tossing the keys to a bewildered suna. "lock up for the night would ya? i'll see you tomorrow rin,"

he watched kita walk through the doors, guitar slung over his shoulder and hands in his pockets. the keys felt cold in his hand, and he couldn't help but wonder what warm fingers intertwined in his might feel like. the caress of his face or a brush of his sweeping dark hair. touch starved? maybe. but starved of love? definitely. 

suna glanced out the window to the onigri shop across the street, surprised to meet dark grey eyes. the man looking back at him blushed in embarrassment and quickly ran from the window, shutting off the lights in a hurry and causing the plant on the windowsill to fall. suna decided he'd buy him a new one tomorrow. he could bring it over, maybe get his name. it was a lie if he said he also didn't want more onigiri. 

_hm. caught you._

smirking, he wondered why the man wasn't sleeping. after all, it was 3am in japan, shouldn't normal people be asleep? suna was always wide awake. was it because he occasionally smoked? maybe. most times it was just him thinking. too deeply he thought.

_closer than i think, hm kita? how close exactly?_

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ _  
_

osamu pov

-

osamu sat down on the black couch of his apartment. it was above his onigiri shop, pretty crafty he thought. his head was buzzing. what was he doing? going after someone who was FAR more attractive than him, not to mention polite AND musical? there was no way the man across the street could ever like him. no one ever did. it was always atsumu this, atsumu that. atsumu the hot volleyball player and oh, his twin brother who sells onigiri. 

even as much as atsumu tried to tell him he was perfect the way he was, it never got through to him. he knew any self confidence he'd had was shattered when his girlfriend in high school broke up with him and asked atsumu out.

atsumu said no. 

it was funny, osamu would never turn down a confession, while atsumu had plenty to spare. he could afford to say no, to disappoint whatever person had fallen madly in love with him. osamu was merely pining for a guy who was too perfect for this world. osamu was convinced the guitar player was an alien. no one was THAT good looking AND talented, right?

through the bar window he saw him clean, talking to who he presumed to be the manager. the sharp jawline that was hidden by a mask just minutes ago could cut, a perfectly pointed nose making his side profile look nothing less than that of a model.

and was that eyeliner he saw? damn, now THAT was hot. an outline traced the end points of his eyes and the inner corners, accentuating the diamond shape and making the pale yellow gleam. 

something the white haired male inside made the guitar player frown. HE POUTED. lips pursed and brow furrowed. osamu nearly lost it then and there, grabbing onto the arm of the couch. he got up on shaky legs and went over to the window, noticing how he faint glow of bar lights made the acute lines of his face apparent. the other man had left, so it was just him standing alone on the stage.

it was certainly a pleasant experience, until the man turned and held osamu's gaze. yellow eyes met grey ones and osamu freaked. 

_fuck fuck fuck i got caught, MOVE YOUR ASS OSAMU HE THINKS YER WEIRD NOW_

he stumbled away from the window, reaching for the light switch to turn it off. in his wake he knocked over the plant on the ledge. 

he looked like a complete idiot. after a second he peeked his head up slightly, just so that he couldn't be seen, to see the man smiling. why was everything he did was absolutely gorgeous? osamu flushed further and let his head fall against the wall, one lousy thought flitting across his mind.

_at least he thought it was funny..._

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HOW WAS THIS PLS TELL ME AHHHHHH ok thanks for reading ily


	3. chapter 3 *:･ﾟ✧

suna pov

-

another show to tick off of his list. everyday was the same. boring, uneventful, and there seemed to be no purpose. the only relief suna had was osamu. 

osamu, who stayed up up until 3 am and made onigiri for suna when he trudged across the street, baggy sweatshirts and tight jeans as his usual outfit. his high-tops had become significantly more scuffed from when he kicked the curb every time walking over. osamu was usually watering the plant suna gifted him, it reminded him of when he brought it over.

it was a pretty raining night, so suna bolted to the alleyway and rapped on the door a couple times. inside he heard the clatter of pots and pans in the sink and the scraping of chairs against the floor. 

suna giggled as the door flew open and there stood a man about his height, grey hair lazily falling into his eyes and eyebrows up in confusion. he wore blue shorts with little white onigiri in a repeating pattern. _very_ , short shorts that showed off the lean muscle in his legs, taught and cut. (a/n: YALL KNOW OSAMU WEARS BOOTY SHORTS TO BED DON'T EVEN DENY IT) 

_there's no way he JUST makes onigiri_

a baggy shirt hug loosely at his broad frame, showing how his muscles flexed with each movement. tight abs showed through the light material as he moved with each breath, a cinched waist that seemed to be half the width of his shoulders.

why didn't he know this man was SMOKIN? how long had he been playing at the bar across the street and HADN'T know about this?

it was at that exact moment suna realized he was staring, mouth gaping open and mask fallen down to his chin. the man in front of him flushed bright read, smiling nervously and hiding behind the door when he understood what was happening. 

"f-fuck, s-sorry. i didn't realize anyone w-would be over, GIVE ME ONE SECOND!" the grey haired man shouted as he ran across the apartment in search of more appropriate clothing. 

suna almost dropped the potted plant in his hand. as soon as the man turned the corner suna turned his back to the door and slapped a hand over his mouth, internally screaming. he ran a hand through his long brown hair, praying for his heart rate to calm down.

he was so fucking gay.

less than a second later the man appeared back at the door wearing black sweat pants, a light grey t -shirt thrown on lazily and hanging off one shoulder.

"h-hey sorry about t-that," he scratched the back of his head, awkwardly leaning against the door frame in a effort to look casual. he failed miserably.

it made suna giggle, the amount of effort the man in front of him was putting in. smiling, suna decided now would be a good time to introduce himself. 

"hey there, my name is suna rintarou. i'm in the band across the street." he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "i noticed your plant fell last night, so i got you a new one," suna said smoothly. he gently placed the plant into the hands of the male, a soft blush making it's way across his cheeks when their fingers brushed. 

the man just gawked at him, the pot in his hands close to slipping.

"s-sorry!" he spluttered. "y-yer just really pretty a-and i, MY NAME IS OSAMU MIYA!" he shouted, blushing furiously and looking down at his feet.

suna was speechless, before erupting into laughter. he noticed an accent, something suna found to be very charming. osamu visibly shrunk at this, groaning as he let his head fall against the door.

"jeez, i'm a mess. sorry 'bout that. thanks fer the plant," osamu told him, setting it down on the counter by the door. "would ya like to come in?"

suna was taken back by the sudden offer. the pair had just met, and it was so awkward, but the comfortable silence and flickering of the yellow street lamp somehow made suna want to accept. he looked up at osamu in surprise. he gazed back at suna, grey fringe unstyled so that it hung low in his eyes and a lopsided grin hopefully on his lips. he put all of his weight on one foot, opening the door a little more to welcome suna in.

"o-oh, sure i guess. only if i get onigiri though," suna replied teasingly, hooking a finger to pull down his mask and step inside.

"i have some in the right now actually, would you like some?" osamu offered, pointing to a freshly made plate. 

suna's jaw dropped. he hadn't been serious. honestly though, what did he expect? the man made onigiri for a living. 

"i- i mean, i wasn't being serious but i'll never turn down good food," suna laughed. he pulled out a stool from under the counter, sitting down as he watched osamu. his back was turned, gathering the food onto a plate, back muscles rippling under his grey t shirt. 

suna looked away as he turned around, busying himself with the mask in his hands an trying to control the heat in his cheeks. a plate of 3 clean, white triangular onigiri's were slid into his field of vision.

"enjoy," osamu smiled softly, running a hand through his grey hair to get it out of his eyes. long dark eyelashes blinked stray strands out from cobalt irises. his gaze was warm, inviting like a steaming cup of tea. suna just stared back, transfixed on the angles of his face, soft eyebrows and a sharp jawline. it all seemed so similar to atsumu's, yet everything was better, perfect. 

the silence was nice, just the two of them looking at the other, taking in the sight and learning whatever they could from a single stare.

suna coughed after a second, noticing the soft blush on osamu's cheeks and a dorky grin as he rested his face in his hand, elbows on the counter as he leaned down. suna couldn't help but sneak a glace at his figure.

"ah, thanks miya," suna said, picking one of the onigiri to take a bite, tearing his eyes away from osamu's lean back.

"erm, call me osamu, or 'samu, whichever floats your boat. atsumu's boyfriend calls him miya still, honestly i think just to spite him." osamu explained as stood by the counter. 

_hm, boyfriend? didn't know he had one._

"anyways i don't even want the thought of sakusa kiyoomi in my head, i dunno how the fuck 'tsumu puts up with that asshole,"

suna almost choked on his onigiri. atsumu miya was dating kiyoomi sakusa? how did he, the loud, obnoxious and smug setter, manage to pull the germaphobe? it was the last thing suna had expected.

"wait- osamu, your brother is dating sakusa kiyoomi?" suna asked through a mouthful of rice, utterly astonished.

"yup, i know what yer thinking. how? i dunno either, dunno why sakusa likes my ass of a brother or why 'tsumu likes sakusa kiyoomi, OF ALL PEOPLE-"

osamu suddenly stopped talking. he slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes went wide in fright.

"oh shit suna- i wasn' supposed to tell ya that,"

suna stifled a laugh. like he'd tell anyone. hell, he didn't even have anyone TO tell.

"i'm not gonna say anything, it just surprised me. atsumu and sakusa.." suna swallowed that last of his food. he looked up at osamu, biting his lip and a worried look creasing his forehead.

he pondered the thought for a second. now that he remembered, they did seem more comfortable with each other than the other players on msby... STOP. suna needed to stop thinking about this. it was about 4am, he should probably go home anyways. 

"well," he said, making osamu direct his attention towards a now standing suna. "i'll get going now. thanks for the food, osamu."

"o-oh yea. sure. do ya need a ride or anything?" osamu asked, genuine concern lacing his eyes. damn he was cute. smoking hot, but considerate and one of the nicest people suna had met in a long time.

"no, no. i'm fine. i've got my motorcycle!" suna exclaimed, waving a hand. "i keep it in the back so people don't steal it or anything. that's probably why you haven't seen it." he stretched his arms us, his short shirt revealing a pale piece of his torso. out of the corner of his eye he saw osamu open his mouth and blush brightly.

-

osamu pov

KDJIEWHFJKNWKJFMFWKFKWJFFOWHNDH MOTORCYCLE???? AND HIS SHIRT CAME UP UHHH WHJFEKJF WHY IS HE SO HOT?????

-

"yea sure! yea! motorcycle! wow! yea cool! pretty!" osamu could hardly form coherent sentences as he smiled awkwardly and pulled at his shirt hem. he laughed loudly and tried to lean a hand on the edge of the counter, slipping and trying to keep his composure. 

suna laughed as he opened the door, turning his head to say "see you tomorrow osamu," and give him a wink, charmed by the fact that osamu could only gape and turn redder than before.

the interaction was the only thing suna thought about as he hopped on his motorcycle and sped away.

that was day 1 with miya osamu. 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh dunno how i feel about. let me know your thoughts. 

**Author's Note:**

> ok plEASE let me know if this is good. i also feel like its,, awkward..? idk FEEDBACK PLS. i haven't written the other chapter yet bc ima wait for feedback so let me know if i should continue. i don't think this will be that long,, 5 chapters? also I'm not trying to make smoking suna's whole personality,, i just thought it was an interesting detail. ALSO this is going to be a book i think,, be patient with me please ;-;


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